Blood and Tears
by mysticwryter
Summary: "I found myself questioning how my Saturday night will be. Will I be bitten? Am I going to be the center of attention? Will I have a scent on me that will distract/attract them to me? I got ahead of myself and felt that thinking irrationally will not suffice the aching feeling in the pit of my stomach. This isn't going to go away." Eric/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Here's another attempt of a story idea. Let me know if I should continue this story, this sorta came out of the blue with me. I don't know where this may go. I want to do another journal/story type of approach, like I did with Diary of FCK. This is kinda far fetched and it's something on the romantic side rather than horror. Something different is always good. Anyways, thanks for your reviews and comments and plenty of encouragement, it never goes unnoticed.**

Fangtasia: what is it that I would call it? Would it be a bordello of the dead? A whorehouse of vamps and unwilling victims? I don't know. What I do know is that I am not wanting to go there. Not because of the chance of getting my neck bitten, or enjoying a watered down beer or sugary concoction of alcohol and juice; it's just not my thing. Ellen, my work buddy and only best friend, went there the other night with her gal friend who is obsessed with the culture. Honestly I do not see a point as to go since it's just bloodsuckers looking for a good time. When I was at work the other day, Ellen came to me all secretly, discreetly telling me to meet her outside for a smoke. That I know I wouldn't let down.

After dealing with my boss for what seemed to be a lifetime of bickering, bitching about my production with the company and how this place will go down the drain, I craved for that smoke and my mind kept wondering what Ellen had to tell me. Honestly, I could care less about this nonsense babbling from my boss. I would rather sit at home and just enjoy being in the sun or just curled up on the couch watching mind-numbing television; at least it would pass the time and it would be something I would do.

After the tongue lashing, I finally made it outside and lit my cigarette, inhaling the taste of the robust flavor of tobacco. I walked casually to the parking garage, where Ellen and I go for our smoke breaks. I feel like I'm hiding my habit from work, but I would rather see the entire building go up in flames and be left with nothing but ash. Okay, I don't want work to know since they will sick their smoke cessation dogs after me with brochures and gross pictures of lungs and cancer ridden people. I took another puff as I see Ellen, leaning up toward the concrete slab looking around hesitantly, making sure no one saw her take a drag off her cigarette.

Now the thing about Ellen is that she's really is a paranoid, overly optimistic person. She would usually come in, cherry- cheeked and with a smile on her face, yet she would cower or tweak like she's on acid if anyone knew her habits of smoking, drinking and having a good time. I'm not as happy as she is at 7:30 in the morning but more of 4:00 on a Friday afternoon, knowing I wouldn't have to see this dumb for 2 days.

Ok…I'm not a person who is a downer; I do have some perks in my life I always look forward to. It's just moving from New York, where I call home and will always return when she calls, to Bon Temps, then to work in New Orleans. I thought that taking this job I would be able to enjoy myself with the French Quarter, eating great gumbo and having a time of my life with southern hospitality. It has far been the opposite. I work 8-10+ hours every day and I sometimes I have nothing to show for it. My dinky little apartment is nothing too extravagant with the leaks and creaks it bellows in the middle of the night, interrupting necessary sleep.

Anyways, enough of my life, Ellen was smoking pretty heavily since I got outside. The smoke was still wrapped around her with the humidity in the air.

"What is it that you want to tell me?" I asked her inquisitively. She looked around, as if she had some top secret information to tell me on the case of life and death.

"Have you been to that vampire bar, Fangtasia?"

You have got to be kidding me. Ellen, of all people, went to a place where vampires prey on young and old and the young seem to look forward to a good sucking/draining.

"Ellen, why in the hell would you go to that place?" I felt my anger start to come through. I've told her not to go there; nothing good comes from that place and it seems that people only go there to get pulled into the bullshit of vampires and gothic ties of false gods. I looked at her, feeling dumbfounded that she went.

"Now hear me out, Cillian, I know I told me your point of view, but honestly it's not all that bad. I mean it's a vampire bar and yes they serve True Blood but it's still a decent place."

A decent place. She just didn't utter those words to describe that place. I rolled my eyes and walked in a circle. "Listen Ellie, you have a way with making something seem "decent" and turns into a pile of crap."

I knew that she was getting pissed since she was puffing harder on her cigarette. She knew when I was right and when I was wrong. I mean she was my only friend here that had all of her teeth and didn't possess a strange twang southern accen.t. She didn't grew up here either, claiming she was from North Dakota but I couldn't see her bearing with the cold winds and winters. She seemed very brittle anyways even a slight nudge would send her flying into the nearest tree, breaking every bone, splintering into her muscles and out her paper-thin skin.

"Cillian, if you don't believe me, why don't you go yourself? You need to stop judging everything just because society believes that it's horrible that such a place exists or that things there happen. They happen. They exist. So either just accept it and never experience it, or go there yourself and see what there is to see." I haven't heard her speak up like this in a while. What caused her to do this? She never did speak up this way to me, at least. Maybe she's on some super drug that was slipped in her little cocktail..

I've never considered myself negative but if Ellie sees that I am, maybe I do need to make a change. Maybe I need to get over it and just see what this so called Fangtasia is all about.

"Ellie, I'm sorry. I've just been under a lot of stress since I moved here and with the expectations of what I was told and what was seen wasn't what I thought it was. I know that I've only been here 6 months and you have been for over 2 years."

"That's your problem, Cillia," she explained, "You have been cooped up in your apartment and never really went out to experience the town. Tell you what, why don't we both go to Fangtasia, so that you don't feel so compelled. Also since I've been there, I know where it is and what is to be expected. Plus you never know if you will have some fun, for once."

She did have a point. It's been nothing but work then home. Work then home. Maybe I should just swallow my pride and go, and I may enjoy myself, who knows. I just hope I don't get drained and left for dead by a dumpster.

"Alright, Ellie. When do you wanna go?" I asked her, holding my breath on the date she decides.

"Why not this weekend? Saturday night good for you?" she asked with bright eyes.

"Sure," I said quickly, "Saturday sounds fine. How about we take your car and you come by around 9:00?"

"Alright! Make sure you wear something pretty and acutally put some make-up and take the time to do your hair." I didn't know whether to take that as a joke or an insult but I chuckled to amuse her.

She glanced down at her watch, checking the time as to when we had to head back into the bull pen. "Shit, we're late. I told Bryan I would be back around 3 and it's a half hour past."

We turned around sharply and headed toward the building. Sitting there at my desk, I found myself questioning how my Saturday night will be. Will I be bitten? Am I going to be the center of attention? Will I have a scent on me that will distract/attract them to me? I got ahead of myself and felt that thinking irrationally will not suffice the aching feeling in the pit of my stomach. This isn't going to go away.


	2. And now, a brief history in time

**I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I still don't know where I'm going with this but I've said that with all of my stories. This chapter is just a history of Cillian (pronounced _Sillian_, with a nickname of Cillia or Cill). Enjoy. The story is M for a reason. If you are uncomfortable reading this, I suggest not reading it.  
**

Well Saturday is here. I don't know what I want to wear, how to wear it. I really don't know what to do. Throughout the entire week, I was racking my brain, and not really concentrating on work. My boss came by my desk the other day, just to let me know he was still a prick. I don't know what it is with him. Ever since I joined the newspaper, he's been like a huge pimple on my ass that has yet to heal and only festers even if I try to make it better. The first impression of him was rather dull and he would rather look at my breast or legs when I try to look decent. He has a history of well "having his way with the women" as I can put it. Ellen told me of the last chick that had my position as editor here. Some odd reason, she couldn't keep herself from; how do I say this…indulging with the head senior editor. Yeah, the screwed around. Yes, they fucked, even during working hours (how in the hell?). She was caught on her knees when his wife decided to make a surprise was so shocked that she choked and blew chunks all over his pants. I can't imagine having that feeling of warm puke staining not only $150 pair of pants, but just the warm, yet cold feeling. The stickiness and the aroma of stomach acid and morning breakfast. I was told the smell lingered for about a week. I know that girl still needed schooling on "Giving Dome 101." You know that doing it at work is very time-straining, since it does take time (sometimes hardly any at all). The constant interruptions would not only drive you crazy, you would just give up after 10 minutes. I can't imagine how much her jaw would hurt. With an egotistical ass like Marcus, it would take a minute for him to orgasm just so he could pull his head out of his ass.

You could say I was a little bit of a whore in good ol' NYC. I've been down so many roads that it would make the Virgin Mary blush at what I have done. I've tried everything; maybe I was just curious or just that I was such a nympho. That's another reason as to why I moved. You see, I tried to make a better self-image in NYC but it always seemed to be me either drunk or just horny all the time and just kept running into guy after guy. When I moved, I considered Bon Temps as a way to restart my life. Relationships have always been a rather bother with me. Maybe it was timing or just that when the guy decided to pour his heart out to me, I just shrugged it off as a crush and never delved into the real aspects of a boyfriend/girlfriend experience. Maybe I was just going through a phase in my life but never really sat down to think where I was. When I lost my job at The Tribunal over a lie that I was doing coke in the bathroom off the back of the toilet (seriously, people will do anything to sell a story). In a way I do see it as a breaking point; I had to see through the looking glass as to where my life was actually leading. So, unlike me, I packed up everything, left my cozy 1 bedroom east side apartment and made the change to Bon Temps, Louisanna.

What made me think of a place like this?

Home is where the Heart is, as what they say.

Usually folks would expect someone like me to come from such a small town with the ambitions that I possessed or strive for. My dad was from here and my mom was from Ithaca, north or NYC. I grew up like any other kid in Bon Temps; riding my bike to the creek and basking in the sun, watching the clouds roll in and out. I played hopscotch, Red Rover, and 4-square. I wore my hair in pig tails and had a few pink sundresses. I walked around barefoot and went swimming in the creek with my friends. My dad was a business man- turned- farmer. He raised livestock and crops, mainly corn, tomatoes and a few others. When he figured that he could make more money by selling and buying, than putting the effort, that's where his trouble began. He would sell too much or buy too little to continue gis production of livestock, so they died off. Farming was OK at first then it started to falter. Without proper nutrition, the fields dried out and left just powder. Also another reason he failed, was because of his drinking. Loved his whiskey, my dad; Wild Turkey, Jim, Jack and Mr. Johnny Walker. It was just a small drink every once in the while, just to take the edge off then it escalated into a dark spiral. My dad was always a stand-up man, loving husband and father. He treated me and my mom so well , even though we struggled. When my mom would bring up the idea of moving to New York just to establish ourselves again, he would flare up in rage at the thought. He always said "This is my home. I'm not walking away just because of a few spells." Well, after the speech was given one too many times, my mom took her own advice. Well she also had inactive since he was found one night, passed out drunk after he crashed into a general store in a town 50 miles away. He said he didn't know how he got there but said he was at the bar just to have one drink, just one. Stereotypical alcoholic. My mom packed our stuff and we moved from here when I was 10.

When I did return here, it was so different yet it remained the same. There were the same buildings but the businesses were different. The ice cream shop was not there, either was the arcade and Mr. Johnson's store where he would have horses in the back for kids to ride. That's why I was so shocked to hear about Fangtasia in Shreveport. I basically walked away from where I grew up, and never looked back. When I did tell my mom about moving back home, she said I was just waiting for disappointment and that she would see me back within a year. I am hoping that I can prove her wrong. I do take after my father after all so it would only seem right to start where I began. My mom thought that my dad was full of shit when he decided to give up a life of security with working in Baton Rouge to being a farmer. He had no idea what he was getting into. His only experience was from watching someone else tend. Given my dad had vision and he was willing to try. It ended in failure. I still admire the man for at least trying.

Time keeps slipping away from me. I only have 3 hours to decide what I am going to wear and do before Ellen makes her grand introduction. I keep thinking about how it really is inside Fangtasia and will I actually like it. Yeah, I was a wild woman in NYC but the club scene up there is really different than here. One, there's no hillbilly walking down 42nd street in nothing but blue jean overalls, mullet and missing half his teeth. Up there, it's about class. You would dress in the most expensive thing you own and walk down the street, even in Times Square, like you are worth all the money in the world. It's not like that here. You would be a hoity-toity, someone who thought you were high and mighty and knew everything. This is an entire new ball game for me. I never got the chance to party, southern style as they say. Hopefully with this introduction to a new way to party in the good ol' state of Louisiana, and maybe I'll get Ellen off my back of "experience life" and "taking a chance". If only she saw my actual life in New York, she would see this as more of progression than regression. Well I guess I need to rummage through my closet. Hell, it'll give me a chance to put most of my clothes away now. More motivation to a so called better me.

I just hope that I haven't gained any weight. It will be a bitch trying to fit back into my party attire.

Maybe I can get away with jeans, boots and a nice top. Time to rummage!


	3. I feel pretty oh so pretty

**Thank you for those who have read the story and continue to wait for the upcoming chapters. Here ya'll go; chapter 3.**

I didn't expect what I was getting into.

First off, I spent about an hour trying to figure out what to wear. I did have a decent outfit picked out, but as soon as I opened the door, Ellen looked at me a chuckled.

"You are asking vampires to take you. You need to change," she said as she stepped her foot into the door.

Like what? She honestly looked like a clown, dressed up in all dark make-up. I've seen this style before, while I was in high school but honestly she had on too much in my opinion. She did have some style though. Her corset was red and black lace, with black rhinestones imbedded around the breast area. She also had a short, and I mean short, leather skirt with high black leather boots. She seemed a little trashy but honestly maybe this was something that was appropriate for where we were going.

"Go in your bedroom; I am changing your clothes," she declared, grabbing my wrist, leading me toward my bedroom. I don't have a lot of what is called appropriate gothic style. I'm mostly just a jeans and t-shirt type of girl, not really into that whole glamour idea. Yeah, I had dresses from some higher end stores but I didn't bring those with me down here; I wanted to leave all that behind in New York and gave them to Sylvia since she would make more out of them. I didn't know Ellen all that well since I didn't talk to a whole lot of people.

She ransacked my closet, tearing away at clothes on hangers. She rummaged through my drawers, throwing my so called "boring" clothes into the air and I watched them fall to the ground gracefully, as if they gave up on trying making me look pretty. She even asked me if I was wearing a thong under my jeans. Ok…let me explain something. I would rather be caught dead than end up with granny panties on at a club, whether it was at a club like this or any other. Of course I was wearing a thong, black lace and thin. I told her I could prove it and she said to go ahead.. I showed her and she made a comment on the lines that maybe I did have a little bit of style. She has no idea of what I could pull off, just that I didn't have the so called resources available for me.

It seems like an eternity, but with an aspirated sigh, I knew that she found something. She handed me a black , wide neck (not trying to be desperate are we, Ellen), long-sleeved shirt. I haven't worn that shirt in a long time so I doubted if it even fit me. She pulled out a black leather belt with silver rhinestones around the buckle, black boots with silver buckles. I took of my shirt and pulled the black one over my head. It felt so tight. I looked into the mirror and saw that it was really tight! It fit though, given that the fabric was supposed to be snug. It did accent my collarbone and I saw a little bit of cleavage peak through the top; not too bad though.

I guess she does has some style.

"We have got to change your hair; you'll be burning up and dying to put it up," she added as she tussled with my hair, "and your make-up needs to be a little…..darker."

Oh, boy here we go. I'm going to be a fucking clown by the time she's over. Just go ahead and add a rosy red nose to the mix!

So I sat on my bed as she tugged and pulled, fitting in bobby pins and letting a few pieces fall in front of my face. She outlined my outer rim of my lower lid and what felt like rubbed black soot onto my eyelids. She did make me chuckle as she was looking at my face, making sure everything was even. It looked like a real bad artist trying to make something out of nothing.

I stood up and went into the bathroom and stood there. My eyelids were of a smokey style, black eyeliner with a coal eye shadow. It wasn't all that bad with the outfit though. I tucked in the shirt into my jeans, showing off the belt. It wasn't as magnificent as her outfit but it was close enough.

My hair was tousled around, but pulled back into a messy bun, but it went well with the outfit. I had a few tossed curls that contoured to my face; not bad.

I looked really pale too. Reminds me I need to get some sun.

And Ellen does have some style, even with the difficulty I presented to her.

"Well, I guess that we are ready?" I asked her as I came out of the bathroom. She looked me up and down, making sure that the outfit went with everything, including the rhinestone belt.

"It will work," she replied. It sounds a little disappointing but honestly I don't have lavish corsets and dresses tucked away in the back of closet or in my attic for that matter. Still, she was pleased.

She walked out of my bedroom, with me following her. I grabbed my purse and looked one last time in the full length mirror beside my door. I exhausted a sign and knew that tonight was going to be a very interesting one.

The drive was excruciating. It was only a 15 minute drive to Shrieveport but seriously, it could have been from my front door to Los Angeles. Ellen knew I was bit nervous since I really didn't talk much in the car. She tried to make simple conversation but I only replied with a few short words. I was nervous, that's no lie. I was a bit scared too. It's childish to think but with the reputation that Fangasia has plus what Ellen has told me, I think I should be.

Ellen applied the break and pointed out the passenger window as we drove slowly pass the building. It was precented with a long line waiting outside with a long red carpet and red canopy, leading toward the red neon sign that read in cursive "Fangtasia." It seems very secluded, but it was pretty open. We found a parking spot down the way in a field, in the company of other empty cars, parked cock-eyed in so called parking spots. We go out, and walked toward the red glow.

As we reached the company of the awaiting others to get into the prestige club, I had eyes looking me all over. Some had some looks that made me shiver. One guy just kept smiling at me, I thought it was sweet a first; lets me know that I'm still attractive. After a while he just stared; creepy.

Again we waited for a while until we reached the bouncer, dressed in a black suit and his hair spiked.

"I.D.'s please," he demanded as he held out his hand. I dug through my purse found my state issued New York driver's license and handed it to him. He scanned the card, carefully.

"oh! We've got an out-of-towner. Are you as wild as it is in New York, Cillian?" he asked trying to be all swave.

"No, not me," I replied.

He inhaled sharply, "Pity," he said as he handed my I.D. back to me. I placed it back in my purse and waited on Ellen.

"You again? Didn't get enough last time?" he asked her, holding her I.D. loosely in his hand.

"Of course not!" she said, "How could anyone not get enough?"

He smiled at her and handed back her I.D., not even bothering to look at it. Since she has been here, more than once I presume, he knew that she was good to go.

"You ready, Cill?" she asked with her hand on the plush red door.

"No," I said quickly.

"Well, tough. You're here and you get the privilege of going in first." She responded and opened the door widely. I held my breath as I walked into the bass booming through the doorway.


	4. Smell you later

(Gasp)

!

The place was booming! Really it was with all the bass that was passing through the speakers. I was actually in shock at how nice the place was. The place was packed with people moving around, dancing and I guess getting hyped up on the idea of being bitten. The place was dark, except for illuminated stage and blood red painted walls. It looked more of an S&M party with all the black leather and I mean it was everywhere; black leather stools, booths and chairs. I walked slowly but soon Ellen was behind me pushing me up toward the bar.

"This round is on me. What do you want?" she asked as we approached the bar. The place was stocked with everything from vodka to the darkest whiskeys. I really didn't feel like drinking but I amused her and told her a vodka and cranberry. She kind of gave me a look of "really? That's all?" She said OK and called the bartender over. He was of course vampire since his fangs were out in the open. He paused at me, looked me up and down. I tried not to look at him, he kept looking me over, from my legs to my face; even pausing to look at my breasts.

"First time here, honey?" he asked trying to get my attention. I turned to him and nodded. He knew I was nervous; I made it seem so obvious to everyone there. He poured my drink, a little heavy on the vodka but I still drank it. It's been forever since I had a drink so the surprising burning feeling in the back of my throat assured me that I would be regretting this tomorrow morning.

I took my drink and turned around, looking around at the place. It was pretty, I'll admit but there was something rather too dark for my taste. I noticed the gothic lamps that hung above the high tables in the middle of the club, cast iron casing with dull light bulbs, and just enough ambiance for the place. I scanned around, noticing the girls dancing; well I thought they were dancing. At one point they would dance at a slow pace then all of a sudden move faster then back to normal speed. Was she a vampire? There's no other explanation of it. Soon the stage caught my eye and noticed a man in a black chair, no; more like a throne. He must have noticed me out of the hundreds of people in the crowed because he looked right at me and stared at me. It was like he grabbed my soul through my eyes and squeezed tightly.

He was beautiful, though; long blonde hair, wearing all back. I couldn't see his face much because of how he was sitting in the chair, er- throne I should say. The way that the shadows did appear on his face told me he did have a strong jaw. He would turn his head, ever so slightly, like he was looking at a painting, admiring the contours of the brush, the hue of the color. For some odd reason, I liked how he was looking at me; must have been my drink or something because I felt less nervous and a little more at east.

Sometimes I feel that alcohol is both a blessing and a curse.

"Hey El, who's that?" I asked her taking a small sip of my over powered drink.

She turned around and glanced. I noticed a small smirk on her face before she addressed my question.

"Him? That's Eric; he owns this place. From what I was told from anther vampire is that he's a sheriff of this county in the hierarchy of authority for vampires. If one vampire steps out of the boundaries of what they consider to be law, he steps in and takes care of it, minus the sidearm and uniform."

"Oh., then why is he staring at me?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Dear, you stick out like a sore thumb to them. It's not just because of your clothing, but it's your smell. In a way they have a way of telling you who are by your smell; not your cologne or which type of fabic softener you use but by your original smell, your blood."

My blood? How in the hell can someone pinpoint you by the scent of your blood. Even I couldn't smell myself in this place. With the overbearing smell of men's cologne, smoke and sweat I would have a hard time trying to keep my drink down with his all-knowing nose.

Ellen looked up at Eric, as if she was talking to him through her mind. I looked back at both her and Eric. He motioned both of us to come over with two of his fingers.

"Do you want to meet him? He doesn't take too much to some people but since he's locked onto you like a laser, he may say something to you." I turned toward her and my eyes widened.

"No, I'll pass. I'll just stay by the bar and drink my poison." I said rushly.

"Oh, come on, chicken," Ellen pleaded with me. I looked around the bar. The obscene looks I was given. Their eyes searching me through my body and clothes; some of them gestured a flick of a tongue, rolling it across their dry lips. One guy decided to adjust himself, rubbing his jeans against his crotch. I felt like a drug at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

I think that meeting this Eric was a little more hectic than standing at this bar. I nodded and she led me through the crowd of people. I squeezed her hand tightly as I bumped into several people as they danced and swooned over women and men bearing fangs and hardly any clothing. She re-assured me that everything was going to be ok by patting my hand with her other. My heart pounded loudly in my ears and I knew that some caught on as they followed me through the crowd.

We got to the front of the stage and Ellen began our introductions.

"Good evening, sir. You summoned us?"

"You think that I summoned _you_, but it was your friend that I'm interested in. Unfortunately you had to tag along. I've seen you too many times in this place so I've considered you just another sheep among the flock."

"My apologizes, sir. This is one of my friends, Cillian; Cillian this is Eric, Sheriff of Shrieveport."

His voice was smooth and deep, Sounding very intriguing but I just kept my head down and avoided making eye contact. He was rather harsh toward Ellen so I just refrained from speaking.

"Are you interested in my floor, Cillian?" His voice sent tremors down to my bones, rattling them to the fibers. I tightened my muscles so that I wouldn't shiver at the sound of his voice.

I muttered a small "No."

"I'm sorry, dear but you must speak up. I am a vampire but I'm not a fucking dog."

I picked up my head. His eyes met mine again; this time it was if he grasped my throat, pinching every breath out for me to speak.

I cleared my throat and spoke up, "No."

"Ah, a woman of small talk. I would have imagined that you would have had a better vocabulary than just one syllable words," he said to me. Usually I didn't have that but with his presence I felt so small.

"I apologize. Would you like a better answer around the lines of 'Your floor looks more interesting than what I've already seen in this place?"

Holy shit. What just came out of my mouth? I blame the vodka; there's no other explanation.

"Oh, aren't we a smart-ass. Sounds a lot better than a feeble-minded mouse. What brings you to Fangtasia? Lemme guess; you want to be bitten too? Sucked out like a dried up grape?"

His fangs shot out with a harsh exhale. I jumped because I've never had seen something like that before. I was terrified.

"Sorry to have disturbed you, sir. Have a pleasant night," Ellen said quickly, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the front door.

"What was your fucking problem?" asked Ellen very harshly, "now he thinks I'm a dumbass with a bitch for a friend."

"I'm sorry but honestly I don't like how he was talking to both of us, mostly you. You were cordial and respectful but yet he sits there on a throne of shadows and acts like you are some petty little child."

I was pissed at Eric. He sat there and belittled both of us. Suddenly I had the idea to just go up to him and give him a piece of my mind.

Ok, another thing about alcohol; once I've had a drink I do start to loosen up. Not like others, though. I start to speak my mind, not really giving a damn of what other people would think of me.

Soon I found myself walking back up to Eric and his so-called throne. I stood there as he tried his allure on others. I found myself interrupting him.

"Listen, I don't appreciate someone who sits at a point of authority to belittle someone who has some dignity and respect to show you. Unlike someone at your position of a sheriff of assholes, I won't tolerate something like that. If I were you I would so some humility and apologize to my friend and also me. You do not know me so you have no position to judge me or are you too far up your own ass you can't find your way back out?"

He turned right to my face. I didn't know if at that point if I insulted his intelligence of if he was shocked at what I could say.

"Listen, you little child. I don't need to apologize to some pathetic human who thinks that we are some escape from a world that seems so hard. I was human too once and now today is like giving candy to a baby. I don't need you or your friend to introduce yourself. The only reason I gestured you two over here was to look at you; see if you were brave enough to stand in front of me to speak. You didn't, just as I suspected. Unless you want something else, I suggest you leave my presence." He looked right into my eyes but this time I didn't hesitate to show him how much I really "respected" him.

My hand gripped my glass, the ice clinked inside. It was all in slow motion; my hand thrust forward and my vodka and cranberry leaped from the glass into the air, separating within the motion. It splattered across his face, and then splashing upon his jacket, shirt and the stage behind him.

My heart began to panic but my mind remained calm. He turned his face, closing his eyes as the drink spread across his face, dripping down his chin.

Soon I was grasped by two bouncers; both were muscular and gripped my upper arms tightly. I winched at the pressure. My grip loosened around the glass and I heard it crash onto the hard floor. Eric lurched forward, bearing his teeth in front of my face. He hissed and stared me down. He looked around and saw others gawking, questioning as to what happened.

"You are lucky that I shouldn't suck you dry on this very floor."

Then my mind started to panic. My stare went from determined to terror. I never knew how much rage could come from a vampire from spilling a drink he can no longer have, especially if it's thrown into his face.

"Release her!" he demanded and his bouncers obeyed. I felt the blood rush to my lower arms as soon as their grip was released.

"For some odd reason though, I do admire such determination that you would possess such an act and for that I will spare your life, or what you consider is such a life. If it weren't for your smell and your innocent demeanor, I would throw you to the dogs and leave you to rot. "

"They why walk away from an opportunity to do so? I'm right here aren't I? I'm looking onto your pale face and yet you still do not show any authority. Why not suck me dry?" I asked him, exposing my neck by moving my shirt away, revealing my collarbone and shoulder.

I saw his eyes lose the rage and the yearning to bite came through.

"Do it, you coward. I. Dare. You."

It seems forever until he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. He folded his hands together and placed them at his lips.

"You have some nerve to tease a vampire like myself. I admire that too." He soon started to look me up and down, pinpointing as to where my weak spots were located on my body.

"I hope to see you again, maybe on better terms. Now you may leave."

I stood there in confusion. What was that? "I hope to see you again on better terms"? With that I backed up a few steps and turned, still trying to figure out what he meant by that. Ellen found me walking back up to the door.

"Cill, we have been asked to leave if we ever want to come back.," Ellen reported to me. I nodded in agreement and we proceeded out the door.

On our way home, we didn't talk to one another. I felt that I should have at least apologized for my action but I didn't feel that it would be necessary. Ellen was a good friend of mine, if not the only friend I had. Standing up for her felt….appropriate. I kept thinking over the entire scenario in my head, figuring out different avenues I could have took rather than the one I chose. Nevermore, it was done.

She stopped in front of my house and shift into park. She sat there staring down the street.

"Thanks for taking me out. I did have an interesting time," I said trying to make a goodbye.

"Sure," she replied.

I opened the car door and got out. Before I shut the door, I heard her speak again.

"Thank you for sticking up for me. I just never thought that words like that could be that hurtful," she said, looking up at me.

"I felt it was more than needed at that time and you're welcome. You are a friend of mine after all."

She smiled at me and I saw that her mood started to improve.

"I hope that next time that we do go, we will be able to stay longer," she said, chuckling to herself.

I smiled and said my good night to her as I closed the door. I heard her put the car in drive and she took off.

I walked up the sidewalk to my front door.

"_I hope that next time we go, we will be able to stay longer."_

Oh shit! She's going to take me there again?!

I tried to flag her down, but she was already down the street, blaring some music from her rolled down windows. Why would she consider going another time after getting basically kicked out? Sometimes I wonder about Ellen. I think that she likes to have a little bit of shock value into her life; living on the edge as my father would say.

Hmm…..I did feel rather enthralled when I yelled and spoke my mind to Eric. And he didn't bother doing anything about it. Did I intrigue him that much?

Can't start up the questions now; I do need to get some sleep after all.


End file.
